


Take Me By The Tongue, And I'll Know You

by Bennyhatter



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Author created their own species, Begging, Bodily Fluid Kink, Bottom Daryl, Come Feeding, Daddy Kink, Daryl is a sassy shit, Daryl is not human, Dirty Talk, Finger Sucking, M/M, Not that he's complaining, Oil Gland Kink, Ossukuk, Rick may be in over his head, Top Rick, Which is what Daryl is, Wing Kink, Wing Oil As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 11:43:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6752572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bennyhatter/pseuds/Bennyhatter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl is a supernatural creature Rick helped rescue from a slave ring outside of Atlanta. One day he comes home early and finds Daryl trying to groom his wings. He offers to help, and it turns into sex. Naturally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me By The Tongue, And I'll Know You

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys so I created the _Ossukuk_ species a while back. Basically they're humans with some osprey DNA thrown in and mixed up all pretty-like, so Daryl has giant osprey wings and a feral nature and yeah. Any other questions, feel free to scream them at me.
> 
> This is literally just porn I just wanted Daryl with wings getting fucked okay. That's all I went into this with. *gestures helplessly*
> 
> Also I wrote this on my phone, so I'm sorry if there are any grievous errors.
> 
> Also also the title comes from Maroon 5's "Moves Like Jagger" because I suck at naming things.
> 
> ENJOY.

"What're you doing?"

Daryl whirls around, and Rick winces in sympathy when one of the man's enormous wings smacks the wall hard enough to make it shake. He would lament for his wall, because he's seen first-hand the kind of damage those wings can do, but he's more concerned with the vaguely panicked, deer-in-the-headlights look the younger man has going on right now.

"The hell're you doin' back this early?" Daryl hisses, and the noises he makes next are a series of angry chirps and clicks. It's always fascinated Rick, just how much like a bird of prey Daryl truly is. Shane had written the initial report, and while all of society has heard about shifters and vampires and many other creatures that were supposedly mythical, no one has ever heard of an _Ossukuk_ before.

"Finished my paperwork," he replies as he steps further into the apartment and looks Daryl over. It's not exactly protocol for him to bring a victim of a slave trading ring into his home, but after Daryl's violent outburst at the precinct and the resulting damage—both to people and property—Rick offered another solution and everyone was quick to accept it.

Well, Daryl hadn't been on board right off the bat, but that was understandable. He's become a lot more relaxed in the weeks he's been living with Rick, and although his companionship is very welcome to the police officer, who has lived alone since his wife left him and misses the company, he can't help but admit, even just to himself, that Daryl is _distracting_.

Because of his wings, they haven't managed to find a shirt to fit him. The end result is a half-naked man with the most _gorgeous_ wings Rick has ever seen frequently laying around his apartment, or sprawled out on the—thankfully large—balcony with his wings stretched out as much as he can get them to absorb the sunlight.

Rick looked up pictures of ospreys not long after learning the origins of Daryl's species, and he definitely sees the resemblance in the wing structure and color, even if the sizes are vastly different. Daryl's top feathers are the same rich brown as his hair, and the undersides are somewhere between white and ivory, with mottled ticks and patches of softer brown here and there.

 _In my Tribe, I would have been a warrior_ , he'd said once, and Rick can definitely see that. He sees it in the sleek lines of the man's wings—they're built for power and speed; to turn and bank sharply and gain momentum at a rapid rate. His shoulders are almost ridiculously broad in comparison to his slim waist, but they'd have to be to carry something so large.

"Oh yeah?" Daryl clicks curiously and turns away again, resettling back on the floor and bringing his wing around the way he'd had it before Rick had startled him. He's pushed every piece of furniture but the television into the dining room, opening up the living room to give himself more space to work with. Rick stands with his hands on his gun belt for a moment, just watching.

"Mhm," he replies tiredly, rolling his neck to ease the tightness from having sat hunched over a desk for almost nine hours. Daryl doesn't respond again, more focused on his task, and Rick probably stares for far too long before he realizes that the _Ossukuk_ is _grooming his wings_.

It hits his belly like a bolt of heat, watching those long fingers card through the stiff flight feathers and set them right again. He licks his lips, his mouth feeling dry, and his eyes wander to where the wings grow from Daryl's shoulder blades—the tiny, downy-soft looking patches that trail across the skin there before creeping up the joints to become proper feathers. Every movement makes the muscles ripple, and the wings shift minutely in response with hushed rustles that Rick almost hadn't noticed before.

Shaking himself out of the thoughts, he heads deeper into the apartment toward his bedroom. "What'd you do today?" he calls once he's behind his closed door and working himself out of his uniform and into a soft shirt and his most comfortable pair of sweatpants.

"Went flying," is the muffled grunt, and he hears a frustrated click soon afterwards.

Once he's dressed, he heads back out and sees the way Daryl's face is twisted up in anger and frustration. He's contorted his upper body, turned at an odd angle and reaching back to try and get to parts of his wings that he obviously cannot reach. He's still trying though, the muscles in his arms tight and straining and his pale blue eyes getting darker and angrier.

"Need some help?" Rick offers, and as soon as the words spill off his tongue he wants to take them back. He doesn't know the first thing about grooming wings, and coupled with the glare Daryl is now fixing him with, he feels like this situation has the potential to end very, very badly. Daryl has a dangerous temper, and can be unpredictable at times. He's seen what the man can do with his fists as well as those wings. They're large enough to span nearly thirty feet when fully extended, which is probably why he's never really seen Daryl unfurl them fully unless they're outside in a wide open area.

"Don't need your fuckin' help," the younger man grouses, but that's clearly a lie, and they both know it. Still, the way Daryl has shut down, looking caught between anger and growing panic, has Rick lifting his hands in a peaceful gesture and pitching his voice to be low and soothing.

"I'm not trying to insinuate that you can't do it yourself. Just thought I'd offer in case you want a pair of hands that can reach what you can't."

Daryl eyes him, his mouth turned down sharply and his eyes narrowed, like he thinks Rick is offering because he has a hidden agenda and the _Ossukuk_ is trying to figure it out.

"S'for mates," he finally mutters, and Rick winces.

"Sorry," he says, and he truly means it. "I didn't mean to offend you, or overstep any boundaries. I was just trying to help."

Daryl turns to look at him fully, and Rick finds himself pinned in place by those wild, sky-blue eyes. He recognizes that he's in the presence of something Other, something so far out of the realm of humanity as to be untouchable, and it's as thrilling as it is nerve wracking. He's caught by that swirling pale blue, ensnared in the inky depths of slowly dilating pupils, and his breath gathers uselessly at the back of his throat before creeping out past his teeth in a shuddering exhale.

Time hangs suspended, clear skies and storm-dark blues meeting across the pale carpet until Daryl's eyelids slowly drop and cover the cloudless color that reminds Rick so much of Georgia’s summers. They don't reappear, lost to the darkness as the younger man slowly turns and offers what he's guarded so zealously until now. His shoulders are shaking faintly, the tremors making his feathers rustle a little louder, and when Rick presses his hand between the joints, the skin beneath his palm is almost hot enough to make him think Daryl has a fever. He knows better though, knows that the _Ossukuk_ runs a higher core temperature, and they shiver together before Rick's fingers begin slowly tracing over soft skin and steel-hard muscles as they inch toward the base of Daryl's right wing.

The way Daryl's back morphs into the wings is fascinating; the transformation from smooth, scarred flesh to the softest down Rick has ever felt, just like he knew it would be, is something he cannot help but marvel at. The lashes that tear up Daryl's back aren't hard to figure out—he was problematic for the Handlers and they tried whatever they could think of to break him. Seeing them makes Rick want to hunt every last one of them down, but right now he's got Daryl in front of him, who is gasping and shaking as Rick runs his fingers up into the feathers and pets the mussed, crooked pinions back into place.

"Is this okay?" His voice is deeper and lower than it’s ever been, something in him responding to the way Daryl is reacting to his every little touch. The _Ossukuk_ nods his head once, the movement too quick and jerky, and Rick doesn't believe him until the wings press into his touches like a cat seeking affection. "Daryl?"

"S'fine," the younger man whispers breathily, already clearly lost to the sensation of hands that aren't his own running over feathers that look like they're in desperate need of a clean. He's never seen Daryl groom himself before—does he do it while Rick is at work? Maybe that's why he reacted the way he did when he was caught. This seems very intimate, and the both of them are already breathing heavier, although Daryl's puffs are fast and sharp; strangled noises that don't sound entirely human trying to spill free past a throat locking them down so as not to come across as weak.

"You don't have to be afraid," Rick murmurs as he makes his way down to the undersides of Daryl's enormous wings. He starts back at the base joints again, digging his fingers in a little, and his nails scrape gently against hardened bumps almost the size of walnuts. He pulls back as Daryl pitches forward, looking at the pale-colored oil on the tips of his fingers, and his eyes snap back to the _Ossukuk_ when Daryl lets out a loud, _obscene_ whine and fists his hands against the carpet. He moves closer, intent on making sure he didn't hurt the younger man, but stops when Daryl looks back at him with cheeks that are already flushed and glassy, unfocused eyes.

"Daryl?"

" _Fuck_ ," the man gasps, and his wings spread wide and tilt to offer a better angle. Rick looks at the area he'd felt the hardened nub and sees a shiny, slick glimmer on the surrounding feathers that he hadn't noticed before.

"What is that?" Reaching out, Rick feels around until he gets the right spot and presses down a little. Daryl rips at the carpet and makes another broken, guttural sound as more oil leaks out into Rick's palm and puddles a little in the center. It takes him a moment to realize that the man's hips are rocking down against the ground, his loose pants being worked down a little to reveal the tantalizing curve of his ass, and Rick bites his lip hard enough to hurt as he looks at the shine of the oil that has dripped onto Daryl's tanned back.

"Wing oil," Daryl grits out, sounding so far gone already that the answering punch of lust that hits Rick is almost enough to make his head spin. "Helps keep 'em clean and free of dirt an' _shit_." He ends it with a hiss, like he can’t stop himself no matter how hard he tries.

"This why you do it yourself?" Rick rubs his hands together until they're coated in the thin oil, bringing them to his face quickly and sniffing. There's a faint hint of something musky, but nothing overwhelming, and he smiles as he begins to run his oiled hands through Daryl's feathers again.

"S'why it's only for ma- _ah_ \- mates," the _Ossukuk_ moans. His back is arched to the point it looks painful, his wings trembling even harder and spread wider to give Rick access to _everything_.

"That so?" He's distracted and he knows it, switching between gathering more oil than he probably needs and rubbing it into Daryl's feathers until they're clean and glossy and he cannot ignore the whimpers anymore. Daryl is a vision of perfection, his nails digging into the carpet and the muscles in his forearms rippling as he rocks his hips down and arches his back to chase Rick's fingers every time they leave. When Rick cannot keep himself from exploring a little further, he draws oily trails down the heaving back and dips beneath the edge of Daryl's jeans to feel the clench of those tight cheeks when he presses curiously between them.

"Oh _fuck_ ," Daryl cries out, his wings knocking hard against the carpet _and holding him up_ as Rick watches him scramble to unbutton his pants and kick them off. It's a captivating sight to see from behind, Daryl's head hanging and his panting loud and frantic as denim slides down his long, gorgeous legs and bares everything to Rick.

"You tell me to stop, it does," Rick damn near growls, and he waits for another quick nod before grabbing at Daryl's wings where the oil glands are and _squeezing_.

Daryl _screams_ , and Rick watches the way his cock jerks between his spread legs as he splatters a load of cum onto the carpet. When Rick spreads the younger man's ass open to watch his trembling, spasming hole, he growls again and Daryl answers with a whine as he presses back.

"Fuckin' _do it_ ," the _Ossukuk_ demands, the high note of his desperation shaking his words into helpless abandon and need, and when he looks back at Rick his eyes are overtaken by pupil, his mouth hanging open and wet and his lips shiny from the drool he can't keep back. His beard is mattered with it, and Rick wants to turn him around and shove his cock into that inviting opening until that pretty tongue curls against the underside and that flush turns a dangerous color.

 _Another time_ , he promises himself, because oil is dripping steadily between his fingers and beading with the sweat Daryl is already drenched in, and it's too pretty of a sight to ignore. Rick makes sure his fingers are slick enough, smiling to himself, and presses two past the relaxed ring of Daryl's hole.

Tight internal muscles clench down and suck him deeper, and when he hears the wet sounds of suction he glances up and is immediately caught up in the sight of Daryl deep-throating three of his own fingers, his knuckles slipping past his teeth and his cheeks pulling in as he sucks and slurps. His eyes roll back in his head when Rick pushes his fingers deeper and twists them, and his fingers are dragged free with a wet pop. He smirks with a wet, swollen mouth, and Rick smirks back.

"You gonna be a good boy and let me take care of you?" he asks, and Daryl's black eyes narrow even as his wings tremble and his walls tighten around Rick's fingers until it's hard to move them at all.

"What, you gonna try and be my Daddy or somethin'?" The younger man sneers. His eyes quickly go wide, his hips grinding down onto Rick's knuckles, when Rick finds his prostate and milks it with firm, unyielding pressure. His keening mewl is _delicious_ , and Rick's own cock is heavy and hot in his jeans; more than ready to sink into that open, eager channel.

"I think Daddy would like it better if his boy would let him," he agrees, and the way his blood burns hotter is matched beautifully by Daryl's ragged moan and the way his spine bows in a gorgeous dip when Rick presses harder at his prostate and wraps his free hand around the engorged, dripping cock between the _Ossukuk's_ legs. He tightens his fingers to hold off the impending orgasm, and Daryl spits words in a language he doesn't understand, but it makes his smile wider.

"You behave and wait for Daddy to say you can come, darlin'."

" _Daddy, please_ ," Daryl moans, and Rick's eyelids flutter at the sheer _need_ he hears in Daryl's words, at how much he's already broken apart and trembling with his new vulnerability at the hands of someone who has taken him from something horrible and offered something he probably never hoped to expect.

"Good boy," he rasps, and Daryl's smile is dirty and sweet at once, his blush creeping down the sweaty line of his throat and trailing in a bright stain over his nape. Rick wants to put his mouth there, wants to _bite_ , but he doesn't know if that will be allowed, so he settles for pulling his fingers from Daryl's ass, shuddering at the sloppy, wet sound the action makes, and pats a narrow hip. "Over now, sweetheart. Gonna ride Daddy so we don't crush those pretty wings, okay?"

"Think of everythin', don't ya, Daddy," Daryl murmurs, and he might be trying for snark, but his thighs are shaking so much that he can barely support himself, so Rick palms those sinful hips and digs his thumbs into the dips on either side of Daryl's groin as he helps the _Ossukuk_ to get situated.

"Anything for you, baby boy," he grins, and then it's _his_ turn to knock his head back against the dirty carpet and moan when Daryl reaches back and gathers up some of the oil rolling in thick trails down his spine. A dirty, clever hand twists around Rick's cock, getting him properly slicked, and that's all either of them can take.

" _Now_ , Daryl," he growls, and the younger man sinks onto his cock with a quiet, fast series of chirps and echoing clicks that shudder into a long, drawn-out moan that starts low in his chest and ends in a high, keening cry. Rick cannot help but stare, because he has _never_ heard _anyone_ make a noise like that before, and coupled with the hot, tight clenching of Daryl's ass it's making Rick feel like he's closer to Heaven than he's ever aspired to be before.

" _Fuck_ you're tight," he moans, and Daryl grins and tightens around him even further. He stays smug long enough for Rick to find the right angle and slam his hips up while pulling Daryl down, and the _Ossukuk_ chokes on a whine and comes across Rick's chest, pearly droplets even hitting his lips and cheeks. He licks his mouth clean and gathers up some more; smearing it over Daryl's sweaty, trembling stomach before feeding the rest into his open, gasping mouth.

Daryl's moan vibrates into Rick's knuckles as he sucks his fingers and rides his cock so hard that he's almost certain he's going to have rug burn all down his back and ass, but it's worth it for the way Daryl has lost himself so completely that he's reduced to basic, primal noises. He can barely even brace himself enough, his hands resting limply on Rick's pectorals—all of the work comes from his clenching thighs and Rick's own hold on him, and his muscles must be _burning_ by now, but the _Ossukuk_ doesn't seem capable of stopping himself.

"Look so gorgeous covered in your own oil and cum," Rick groans through clenched teeth, and he can see the bruises he's pressing into Daryl's skin; how the smudges mar what was otherwise nearly perfect, and he knows they'll be sweet reminders for _days_ that he'll see every time he looks at Daryl.

Daryl whines back, his teeth pressing delicately into Rick's fingers, scraping at his knuckles, and he shudders through a dry orgasm that makes his back arch sharply and his wings snap out. One hits the wall, and Rick hears the drywall cave with a crack. The other wing slams into the television, shattering the screen, and before Rick can try to reach up and pull it away from the dangerous situation Daryl's passion has caused, it jerks back and shatters the balcony doors.

Glass rains down, bouncing across the carpet and rolling off the edge of the balcony, and Rick's own orgasm catches him completely by surprise as he looks up at Daryl and sees the way the light makes him glow; his head thrown back and his mouth open in a silent cry and the shadows of his wings adding another layer of angelic beauty that Rick swears to himself he will _never_ let go of.

Reaching up, he curls a hand around the back of Daryl's neck and pulls him into their first kiss. It's surprisingly a lot softer than he was expecting, their mouths meeting in gentle passes as they pant through the aftershocks and bask in their respective afterglows. He nuzzles his nose against Daryl's small, neat beard and feels the way the man's lips curl up against the side of his face.

"Well, that is not at all how I was expecting this evening to go," Rick chuckles, and Daryl's laugh is a soft puff of air that barely sounds like anything. When they press their foreheads together, he sees that the _Ossukuk's_ eyes are back to their normal, glittering pale blue. He runs his fingers through Daryl’s dark, damp hair and feels where the sweat has mixed with—strangely enough—oil and a bit of cum. He's careful not to yank those strands, and can't help but smile wider when the man closes his eyes and chirps happily.

"Ain't how it was supposed to go," Daryl agrees before pushing himself up and making a disappointed face when Rick's softening cock slips from his body. His wings fold in as much as they can as he sits back on Rick's hips, and for having such massive, feathered appendages, he doesn't weigh nearly as much as Rick was expecting. "Ain't really complaining though, even if we didn't do things right."

"Do things right?" Tilting his head back, Rick looks up at Daryl through his lowered eyelashes and feels his stomach twinge pleasantly at the slow smile spreading across the younger man's face. "What things?"

Daryl dips his head, his thin, dry lips brushing against the shell of Rick's ear and making him shiver in anticipation. "Gonna have to work for round two, officer," he whispers, and the dark sensuality in his voice makes Rick's cock twitch and his blood start heating up again.

"Is that so, darlin'?" he drawls, and Daryl's response is a nip at his ear and a sweet, breathy chuckle.

"Damn right it is, _Daddy_. So how about we do things _my_ way now, and you show me what you've got." Those eyes are dancing as Daryl sits back, looking pleased with himself, and the words are intriguing enough to light his curiosity.

Rick sits up and drags Daryl into another kiss, already in love with the way the _Ossukuk_ shivers when his tongue sweeps past those teeth and licks up the lingering flavors of Daryl's cum. When they pull apart with a wet sound, Rick's grin is all teeth.

"Challenge accepted, sweetheart. Better start running."


End file.
